


there is no geneva convention for kids

by Pistol



Series: Sometimes [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Emma isn’t a princess so much as a child of the Ancients, Gen, Heavy on the Stargate Lore, Quantum Mirror (Stargate)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol/pseuds/Pistol
Summary: Once upon a time millions of people died - but before that happened a man understood his limitations and overcame them by making a mirror to look into every possible reality and let those realities look back on him.
Series: Sometimes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612576
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	there is no geneva convention for kids

Once upon a time, there were people known as the Alterans, but that was several wars and many years ago. 

Like all empires, the Alterans left their mark. Their epic sagas were carefully recorded for posterity and left hidden in their ruins, their passion engraved into the people and tech that was scattered across the corner of every galaxy they'd touched. Their creations of war and peace and hubris are still being uncovered and pulled from sleeping cities.

Once upon a time millions of people died - but before that happened a man understood his limitations and overcame them by making a mirror to look into every possible reality and let those realities look back on him.

(Sometimes it's a woman, sometimes the man never has a child and his wife is still alive, and sometimes he is just a very lonely man wondering _what if_. Here, though, the quantum mirror is built and a man talks to himself until he figures out how to safely put his daughter to sleep until her future and his history hurries up and happens.)

+

She sleeps for ten thousand years before her stasis chamber engages its secondary protocol. Its springtime when she is found by an elderly couple who claim to find her lying alongside a road. The only hint about where she might have come from are woven into the odd swaddling cloth that was wrapped around her, embroidered with strange symbols no one can read. 

A nurse on duty picks her up when she cries, bouncing and smiling at her before she turns and informs her coworker that the baby looks like an Emma. Later a doctor will hold her in his arms and smile despite the sadness he feels at her situation and estimates Emma's age at about four months.

The baby is neither Emma nor four months old, but the baby doesn't know that. Any hopes of learning the truth are lost when the strange blanket gets thrown away and the couple who found her vow never to speak of the device they found in the woods.

(Sometimes Emma is raised on a farm by that couple who love her like the daughter they never could have, sometimes she is not alone when wakes so does her caretaker, and sometimes the attack comes too soon and she and the AI sleep undisturbed inside Atlantis' hidden depths. Here, though, a plague had run wild, killing her mother and driving her father to madness in his quest to protect her from it.)

+

Emma is eleven when she _really_ begins to understand that some people just don't get to have families.

"It's been less than a week, Emma." Mrs. Cassie chastises as she takes the small duffle from Emma's hands. 

"That's longer than the O'Malley's," Emma points out.

Mrs. Cassie rolls her eyes and heads off to her van, not bothering to see if Emma is following her because _of course_ Emma is following her. Where else could she go?

(Sometimes Emma doesn't wait for Mrs. Cassie and she runs into the woods where it's so cold that all she wants to do is sleep, sometimes the nurse at her school doesn't notice the angry marks on Emma's back, and sometimes the nurse notices but doesn't care. Here, though, the nurse makes a report and drinks a whole box of wine on her couch that night as she tries to forget her own childhood.)

+

Emma is thirteen when she gets a black eye from her foster Mom. Mrs. Cassie has a new job, one with a desk and a fancy brass nameplate so it's Miss Brosh who shows Emma how to cover it her bruise with foundation for the upcoming picture day at her new school.

"It smells," Emma complains, squirming in the hard plastic seat.

Miss Brosh tries to hide her smile but fails. "Have you considered that maybe _you're_ the one who smells."

Emma scrunches up her nose at her, "It's oily."

"Hate to break it to you kid, but you're a teenager and teenagers are oily," she winks at Emma, reminding her again of why she likes Miss Brosh so much more than Mrs. Cassie. 

From the way she smiles at Emma she thinks it's possible that maybe, just _maybe_ Miss Brosh likes her too.

"Do you want a daughter?" Emma thinks she could be a good daughter if someone like Miss Brosh was willing to be her mother.

Miss Brosh's smile falters and her eyes become tense. "Emma," she says giving Emma all the answers she needs.

"I was kidding," Emma lies.

(Sometimes it's Mrs. Cassie and she yells too loudly and Emma is too quiet, sometimes Miss Brosh loses her job and gets arrested for an assault she doesn't regret, sometimes Emma tries to fight back and in the scuffle her head hits the corner of the dining room table and Mr. Brosh has to identify Emma through his tears. Here, though, Emma wasn't lying and she'll spend the night crying unaware that Miss Brosh is doing the same thing.)

+

Emma leaves foster care when she's fifteen. There were other routes she could have taken, routes with judges and paperwork, but Emma chooses to take the route that leads out her window.

It takes two weeks for anyone to notice she's gone. 

A long time ago that knowledge would have hurt her.

(Sometimes Emma ends up as a story on the news about a life cut short and how the system failed another helpless child, sometimes she makes do and forgets how to smile, and sometimes Emma moves in with the Lopez family instead of the Hofstadter family and she never leaves and she smiles and laughs without needing a reason. Here, though, there are no locks on her doors and she knows the look in her foster dad's eyes.)

+

Emma is seventeen when she chooses a lower profile silver sedan over a yellow bug. It's not a remarkable day and in time she forgets all about it.

(Sometimes Emma chooses the yellow bug and ends up pregnant and in a jail cell, sometimes she ends up kissing a girl named Neila who steals her heart but never breaks it, sometimes Emma has been dead for ten years and the yellow bug is only ever stolen once. Here, though, Emma has four dollars to her name and she appreciates the reclining seats in the sedan when its time to sleep.)

+

Emma's nineteen and contemplating felonious acts at a New York coffee house when it all starts to change. 

Her mark had practically fallen into her lap, walking in on eight-hundred dollar shoes and a nose buried so deeply in a dime-store romance novel that the door almost hits her in the face when she stops to turn a page. The woman seems nice enough, she's sweet to the overworked and under-appreciated barista and Emma can't help but notice the unusually large tip she tucks into the tip jar before grabbing her seat. That in its self is almost enough to make Emma look the other way. 

_Almost_. 

What seals the deal for Emma is the huge designer bag the woman drops at her feet. A bag that's holding what looks like at least two laptops, several books, a tablet, and what appears to be a very expensive wallet stuffed with cash. 

_Stuffed_. Emma can _litteraly_ see the thin line of cream and green paper from her side of the room. 

It's better if the bag slips away unnoticed, Emma tells herself, as opposed to having it grab the attention of one of the twitchy thugs that hang around two blocks down. At least Emma's methods don't include flashy butterfly knives and a need to prove herself.

Emma grabs her coffee heading to the counter for a refill before she slides into the vacant table next to the woman. The book must be good because she'd be willing to bet money that the woman is completely unaware of her - let alone the rest of the coffee shop buzzing happily around her.

When Emma leaves, she does so with her jacket in hand, carefully draped over the heavy bag. 

(Sometimes Emma didn't have enough for a hot drink that day and is shivering on a bus stop across town, sometimes she's meeting with a group of men in a sleazy motel room as they sketch out plans for their next heist, and sometimes Emma gets caught but Aurora looks oddly nervous as she assures the officers she doesn't want to press charges. Here, though, it's been snowing for three days straight and the black coffee refills are free and kept Emma's fingers from feeling like they were falling off.)

+

Emma is still nineteen and she knows better than to keep the electronics for long. She gets less than she'd normally like unloading them, but the wallet alone more than makes up for it and Emma uses the money tucked inside to splurge on a room in a decent-_ish_ hotel, some gloves, and some sturdy second-hand boots.

She's still rifling through the various odds and ends in the purse, sorting out the makeup (gets stuffed into Emma's bag – the working gals downtown will probably trade her some food for the fancy brands), the receipts (trash), the collection of pens (she holds onto the expensive-looking ones for a rainy day), and finally stumbles upon what appears to be a static bag tucked away in what looks like an aftermarket pocket that was added to the bottom of the purse. 

"Weird," Emma murmurs, holding the static bag up to the bedside lamp. Inside something is vaguely shaped like a bar of soap. The whole thing is surprisingly heavy for its size. Emma tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, lowing the bag to examine the seal on the bag before becoming frustrated enough that she grabs her pocket knife and cuts her way through the bag. 

Whatever it is, it's smooth and silver and looks like it should be reasonably pricey if she could just figure out what it _is_. The weirdest part, however, is how when Emma touches the cool metal a burst of energy rocks through the room and shatters all the lightbulbs - and from the sounds of it - the windows too.

Emma is left standing in what looks like the center of a tiny windstorm in shock for several seconds, questions and disbelief racing through her head before she stops them all with a simple decision.

Not worth it. 

_So_ not worth it in a post 9/11 New York.

She drops the item onto the bed, quickly tugging on her new boots and grabbing whatever is in reach. She's shimming down the fire escape and slipping into the night by the time the flash of red and blue lights start to appear in the distance. 

She's three blocks away when she's calm enough to notice how dark _everything_ around her is. No lights in the buildings, no streetlights, not even the glow of traffic lights in the intersections. The only lights around her come from a handful of cars in gridlock and the stars.

(Sometimes Emma misses the hidden pocket and spends her night singing her heart out as she enjoys her first hot shower in weeks before curling up in a cozy bed, sometimes she leaves the item in the bag and Big J thinks it's unique enough that he gives her forty bucks for it, and sometimes Emma buys a needle instead of a hotel room and falls asleep in an alley and never wakes up. Here, though, Emma is scared because she's pretty sure that _I had no idea that would happen_ won't cut it if she's caught.)

+

Emma stops being nineteen on a greyhound bus somewhere between Palo Verde and Blythe. She doesn't realize it until her birthday is almost over, of course. Things can get a little fuzzy when you're not sure if you are or aren't being tracked down for stealing a magic rock. 

If she is being looked for, Emma votes for law enforcement. She's had far too much time to think on it and at this point, she'll gladly take homeland security or cops over whatever parties might come from the wealthy woman who liked romance novels and who also carried around a silver bauble capable of knocking out all the power for twenty city blocks.

She lets out a nervous giggle, earning her a disproving look from the man across the aisle, but fuck him. It's her birthday and she might be going to Gitmo so she'll freak the fuck out if she wants too. 

(Sometimes Emma gets off the bus in Palo Verde and meets a nice man with a sweet smile who doesn't care about her past, sometimes her picture is on the news and the man across the aisle turns her in for a cash reward, and sometimes there's a drunk driver and only Emma and four others survive the crash that steals her sight. Here, though, Emma is wary of the cameras in the parking lot so she ignores the rumbling in her stomach and stays on the bus instead of joining the others in the Denny's on their pit stop.)

+

Emma is twenty and has bigger things on her mind than dealing with the strange, balding man who strokes his hand through her ponytail as he passes her on the street. She winces, rubbing absently at her scalp where a hair must have been snagged and pulled out before turning to face the direction he went.

"Maybe don't wear rings if you're gonna go around molesting people's hair," Emma shouts out after him with both middle fingers raised in salute. 

The man keeps walking but turns his head enough to flash a smirk and smug blue eyes back at Emma.

"Fuck this," Emma decides. "I'm moving to Canada."

(Sometimes Emma had a foster brother who's cruelty had honed her reactions and made her react swiftly, breaking the stranger's wrist, sometimes Emmit was better at covering his tracks and was already in Canada, and sometimes she was pregnant and scared and the doctor told her it was the stress that caused her miscarriage. Here, though, Emma is tired, angry at the world, and she's always wanted to try poutine.)

+

Emma is still twenty the first time she's so scared that she forgets how to run. She's been running as long as she can remember, but when there are thirty-odd guns pointed at her by men in all-black uniforms suspiciously lacking any markings. Between that and the guns, Emma has trouble remembering how to _breathe_, let alone run. Her muscles feel like they're about to vibrate out of her skin and her brain is having trouble focusing on anything but the muzzle of the closest gun.

"I don't want to die," she whispers to the muzzle.

"_Hands up,_" the man beyond the muzzle is screaming, or maybe it's the whole room, Emma isn't sure.

Her limbs feel heavy and she's trying her best to comply but it feels like it's taking forever to get her hands up. 

"Are you armed?" the person behind the muzzle all but yells at her. 

Emma thinks this is what shock must feel like because she knows she should answer but instead she can't help wondering if she should say yes or no. Her pocket knife is small and long overdue for a sharpening, but at the same time, she doesn't think they're asking about pocketknives. 

But then again they have guns and what will they do with those guns if she says _yes_?

"It's a very dull blade," Emma tries to explain. She's still fixated on the muzzle, noticing the tiny rectangles cut out of the metal of the end and she can distantly remember watching a movie that had talked about what those meant. She's trying to remember what they do when a burst of what feels like boiling air hits her back and her whole body jerks at the sensation, cramping up until she's bitten her tongue and is falling forward, unable to move.

As she's falling she can't help but notice that the person behind the muzzle has familiar blue eyes.

(Sometimes Emma was pulled out of the Air Force Academy by armed men after her physical and no one will tell her why until she gets to Colorado, sometimes the armed men find her already cold and still in a motel bathtub in Canada, and sometimes there's a twitchy man with a P-90 who forgot his orders and when Emma runs she can't outrun the piece of lead he sends towards her neck at 2,500 feet per second. Here, though, she can't move and she'd come to terms with the knowledge that no one would miss her long before they load her body into an unmarked vehicle.)

+

Emma doesn't know what day it is, but she thinks it's probably a safe guess that she's still twenty. The people who come in never give her anything in exchange for the blood and answers they demand from her, not even something as simple as a name or the knowledge of what day it is.

"You have to understand," a prim woman says with a sneer that's dressed up like a smile, "Until you're willing to explain your motives for attacking this planet there's not much we can do to help you, Miss Swan."

Emma used to laugh when her nameless interrogators asked such things. She spent what felt like her first week here laughing at the questions they asked her - it was much easier than the time she spent screaming and crying. Now… now she's found a routine in it all. They ask, they insinuate, they tell her fantastical things and she feels absolutely nothing but resignation to the insanity around her.

"Right," she says nodding along. "Because I'm an alien with a grudge against the Earth. Will I be allowed to make my one phone call to my lawyer on Krypton, or do you not allow intergalactic phone calls?"

She doesn't bother with the truth anymore. She's told the truth so many times that it's stopped _feeling_ like the truth. On some long nights, she sometimes sits in the corner of her cell and wonders if she made the woman in the coffee shop up. Maybe she's been in this room her whole life. Maybe she's lost her mind and this is all a delusion.

On the really long nights, she wishes their theories were true. She's tried her luck with Earth, but maybe if she had a whole new planet to search she'd be able to find a place to belong.

(Sometimes Emma is seated at the head of a large table and is greeted with warmth and a little fear as she offers the Tau'ri her alliance and protection, sometimes she's sliced open while she's still alive in the name of science, and sometimes she laughs in the prim woman's face because she's not as alone as they seem to think she is and her parents and their armies will descend upon this planet and leave _nothing_ alive. Here, though, Emma's dizzy from all the blood they've taken and can't make sense of all the conflicting information she's taking in other than she's pretty sure she was human last time she checked.)

+

Emma doesn't care what day it is or why sirens have been screaming non-stop from outside of her cell for the last few hours. If its another test, she'd just as soon skip it, thanks. 

She finds she does care however when a woman in a lab coat holding what looks like a large river rock opens the door, flanked by four soldiers. The woman blinks and seems surprised to see Emma inside the room. She pauses, looking around twice.

She gives Emma a puzzled frown, "Did you sleep through all that racket?" 

"Dr. French," one of the soldiers says in a tight voice, "maybe we can do this later."

"Right, right, of course," Dr. French agrees, motioning Emma forward. "Come on, we need to finish sweeping this floor and get everyone to the rings." She says _rings_ like it means something Emma should know and smiles encouragingly towards her.

Emma couldn't give a fuck about the rings but she likes the sound of getting out of her cell. More than that, she likes being treated like a person.

"I'm impressed you guys got permission to have a crash room down here," Dr. French says as she herds Emma along as they walk. "It's smart, though. I always end up sleeping hunched over on my desk and then my back is _wrecked_ for _days._"

"It's handy," Emma lies easily enough.

Dr. French turns, ready to speak but stops with a look of confusion when she glances down and notices Emma's bare feet. She hides it well enough, returning her attention to whatever mission that requires her to swipe a card and open every door they pass so the soldiers can enter them. 

"I don't think we've met before," she offers in-between empty rooms turning and flashing a wide smile and the laminated badge pinned to her coat towards Emma. It doesn't offer much info for Emma to work with, it only has a picture of the doctor, a tiny Australian flag, the words _Dr. Belle French_, and six boxes all filled with seemingly random colors, letters, and symbols. 

"I'm Belle - I work on the fifth floor."

"Emma," she offers with her best to smile in place of a badge. She's bluffed her way past identification before, but she's not feeling great about her chances in … well, whatever the hell this place is. Hopefully, she can keep rolling with whatever is going on long enough to see sunlight or at least slip the soldiers at her back.

Belle cocks her head and studies Emma with a piercing gaze but is quickly distracted by the soldiers returning from the last room and continuing down the hall. She snaps into action, flashing her card on the next strange lock they run into and bends so she's at level her eye with the scanner. After two scans the door opens and Belle stands back, letting the soldiers enter and start their sweep of it. 

Her eyes rake over Emma once more and something like suspicion starts to crowd into her eyes. 

"Where was it you said you worked, Emma?"

Emma shrugs, moving to the other side of the open door as calmly as possible, "Second floor." 

Belle hums, eyes flickering from Emma's feet to the door where the soldiers went. Emma's heart drops in her chest.

"You must be excited by the findings on BP6-3Q1, then," Belle continues a little too upbeat to be genuine.

"As much as we can be," Emma hedges, knowing full well it's a trap but not sure _how_ it's meant to catch her. 

"That's odd," Belle muses meeting Emma's eyes, in her hand the strange river-rock looking item hisses and folds out into a curling shape that practically screams _weapon_. "BP6-3Q1 has been locked out of the gate system since '98. Nothing and no one would be coming or going from there."

Around them, the sirens continue to scream.

"Who are you?" Belle asks again, moving to put her weapon between them but carefully not pointing it _at_ Emma. Her hands are shaking.

"Please don't do this," Emma begs her.

Belle raises the weapon until it's inches from Emma's chest. "_Who are_-"

Emma dodges left, shoving Belle's hands to the right and winces at the sound the weapon's discharge makes as it impacts with the wall at her side. With one hand pushing Belle's chest back and two quick slams of Emma's palm against her wrist, the weapon is tumbling from her hands. Emma catches it, twisting the oddly shaped item until it's pointed at Belle. 

Her hands _don't_ shake.

"I'm not going back in that room," Emma vows. She glances frantically into the open doorway into a surprisingly vast room where the soldiers are flittering in and out of sight as they check the offshoot rooms off of the main room. Apparently, luck is on her side for once because it seems like no one had heard the electronic-sounding discharge. 

Emma blinks, her eyes spilling over what looks like a novelty coffee mug and a picture of a smiling family on one of the desks. It's a strange thing to realize something that looks so much like an everyday office building has been down the hall from Emma's own little slice of hell. She doesn't have time to dwell on that any longer though, the soldiers will be back soon. They'll probably take offense to the doctor being held at bay by a weapon. 

In front of her, Belle has put on a surprisingly brave face.

"Get me out of here," Emma demands

"I don't know if you noticed, but the base is currently under att-"

"_Get,_" Emma says raising the weapon to Belle's face and hoping her confusion as to how the weapon's operations aren't obvious, "me out of here. _Now._"

Belle pales, nodding quickly, "All right, just-"

"No _just_s," Emma says nudging her forward. "If you want to live you're going to start moving us towards the nearest exit," she smiles letting her teeth out, "try anything funny and you'll regret it."

Belle gives her another strange look, but starts to move, grabbing her lab coat and wrapping it close to her body as she takes off jogging down the halls. They twist and turn through hallways until Emma isn't sure what way is up anymore and she starts to suspect Belle might be giving her a very literal run around.

Emma motions for Belle to stop and they take a moment, gasping for air. Across the hallway, an empty room that looks like a set out of _Fringe_ is sitting empty. 

"What the hell is this place?" Emma asks, motioning her confusing weapon towards the lab.

Belle looks up from where she's doubled over and frowns, her face red from exertion but Emma can see the wheels turning in her mind. 

"You really don't know where you are, do you?"

"Whatever you're thinking-" But Belle is ignoring Emma, moving a hand to her laminated badge and squeezing the corner. Emma stills, waiting for the walls to come crashing in or a siren to sound but nothing seems to happen. 

"Daedalus," Belle says in a firm voice, "we have a code blue."

Emma opens her mouth to say something in response but stops when she notices the strange glow that seems to be emanating from Belle's chest. Emma lifts her stolen weapon in what she knows will be a futile attempt to get her to stop glowing, but freezes when she notices her own hand seems to be glowing as well.

She doesn't have time to panic though, because everything washes away into a bright pale light and then suddenly Emma is _not_ in the hallway anymore. Around her at least a dozen men and women are holding various weapons on her. From her left there's a crackling burst like Belle's weapon had made and then-

(Sometimes Belle didn't come and Emma was left alone in her cell for five days with no food or water, sometimes the Daedalus was called away earlier and when nothing happened Emma had broken Belle's nose and two fingers to make her point, and sometimes Belle finds a lab she wasn't aware of where a naked man is mostly alive and she loses her lunch twice before she can unhook Emmit from the machines. Here, though, Belle has questions with no answers and she is starting to ask questions about the SGC and IOA that she didn't think needed answering until she was handed a medical report and transcripts of Emma's interrogation.)

+

Emma is twenty years old, ten months, and nine days old (if the calendar in her cell is to believed) when she's told she's on a ship in a fixed orbit around the Earth. She's been told a lot of things lately, seen her body glow until she was suddenly in a new place and held weapons she couldn't understand but she's not about to start believing her kidnappers - even if she can hear the truth. 

When she says as much Belle stops trying to explain the Daedalus and starts looking sad. 

The next day Belle takes her from the brig and walks her to the bridge.

"That," Belle says pointing beyond the large windows and the crew who're all pretending not to eavesdrop on them, "is Earth."

She says nothing, watching what does in fact seem to be Earth hanging in front of them. Around them, there are strange consoles and displays that look like something from Star Trek, all manned by people in Air Force uniforms. 

Emma closes her eyes and twists her wrists against her restraints futilely until her wrists scream out in pain. 

"Emma," Belle coaxes softly, "talk to me, _please_."

Emma ignores her, keeping herself in the darkness and straining against the metal until the pain is all she can feel. 

This isn't real. This is just a dream.

(Sometimes Emmit can't move past the moments he spent in their prison and smiles as he festers inside, sometimes Emma looks at the Earth and finds that she wants to know _everything_ about whatever this all is, and sometimes Emma is quick enough to get to a Captain's sidearm and manages to put it to her own head and pull the trigger before anyone can stop her. Here, though, Emma is still standing - if just barely - while on the other side of the Milky Way Sobek's old host is kneeling as he cradles the too still body of Renenutet's abandoned host to his chest. They don't know it yet, but they're both heading down a road to one another, a road that leads towards one of the very few events that will be echoed across the majority of realities.)


End file.
